Dernford Reservoir, Aldeburgh & Merthyr Tydfil :: 28/08 & 01/09 2026

The weekend arrived and I was going to be birding solo, as Kev was away at a family weekend for the whole weekend. Looking at potential birds to visit, I noticed that the weather in the east was looking best for much of the day, and there were a couple of Temminck’s stints at Dernford Farm Reservoir, near Cambridge - a species I’d yet to see this year and one that is slightly unusual for the time of year.

Temminck’s stint is a scarce passage migrant in Britain, with most records occurring during spring, particularly in May. Autumn birds are much less frequent, although August does fall within the recognised autumn passage period, with the BTO describing the species as occurring “sporadically in autumn”.

Dernford Farm Reservoir is a relatively small, fairly new reservoir, created following gravel extraction and now used as a water-storage reservoir. Despite its modest size and inland location, it has quickly gained a reputation as a productive birding site, particularly for passage migrants. The open water is surrounded by fields and hedgerows, while falling water levels can leave exposed muddy margins that are particularly attractive to waders. The site has apparently produced a surprisingly good variety of birds over the years, making it one of those places where a quick visit can sometimes turn up something rather special.

I left early to try to stay ahead of the weather and decided not to stop for breakfast on the way, wanting to give myself the best possible chance of seeing the birds if they were still present after being confirmed there the previous evening. I arrived in the car park and made the roughly (only) 125-metre walk to the reservoir, where three birders were already watching. They confirmed that the stints were still present, although they described them as being rather “flighty” and said they had lost track of them for the moment.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before we picked them up, as they seemed to be favouring two spots around the water’s edge. We watched from our original position for a few minutes before a couple of us, myself included, walked further along the path in the hope of finding a better angle for photographs. Fortuitously, the two stints then came together, close enough for me to capture both in the same frame.

With the stints safely in the bag and nothing else of note showing on the reservoir, I checked BirdGuides and noticed that a wryneck was still being reported in the bushes at Aldeburgh. I was already halfway there, so decided that, as I was heading east anyway, I was still going in the right direction - although it would add considerably to the distance for the return journey.

A wryneck is certainly worth the extra miles, particularly as I had dipped one at Farmoor Reservoir the previous day. On that occasion, only half a dozen or so birders had managed to see it, including Kev, as it had shown briefly on the far side of the bushes from where most of us were standing. Then, just as they were hoping for another opportunity, a torrential downpour arrived and the bird disappeared, never showing again when I eventually got there.

I checked the pin drop and chose a parking spot that would put me within a relatively short walk of the bird and fortunately found somewhere to park without too much trouble. I picked up my kit, put on my boots and set off along the track, looking for a way down to where the wryneck was supposedly showing.

I came across a conservation area access gate and took that route, as it seemed to lead further along the track than the position marked by the pin. Unfortunately, when I reached the end, there was no way to take the left turn I needed. I retraced my steps and walked back to see if I could access the field from an earlier turning, only to find that wasn't the right route either.

I then bumped into a family group, whose son was carrying a camera and was also hoping to see the wryneck. They had been in the field behind but, like me, couldn't see any birders or work out how to access the area marked by the pin. Helpfully, the details stated that it was “still in scrub along river wall footpath by old brick dock”, but for a first-time visitor that didn't really tell us much.

I continued working my way around the area and spent about 45 minutes trying to make sense of it all before finally finding another birder - by then the family had given up and left. He explained that the pin drop was incorrect and, even better, that the bird had been seen about half a mile from where I was standing. Brilliant!

He gave me some directions, and off I set once again, this time hopefully in the right direction. Worryingly, he said that he and several other birders had been unable to relocate the bird, despite earlier reports and birders suggesting that it had been showing intermittently.

I reached the sea wall and the wooden steps and began working the area, hoping to get a view of the bird. But after more than an hour and a half of searching, I still hadn't found anything. All the while I was completely on my own, with no sign of any other birders to increase the pairs of eyes looking. I did at least have a fly-through sparrowhawk, although it was little consolation given what I was really hoping to see.

I decided to make a circuit of the marsh and, along the way, had good views of sandpipers, common terns, ruff, yellow wagtails and several other species, but they did little to make up for the continuing absence of the wryneck. When I reached the area where it had been showing, I returned to the task of searching and was soon joined by two local birders who seemed to have even more specific information about where it had been seen.

It turned out I had been searching in the right area, but even with the additional details we still couldn't relocate the wryneck. Eventually, the weather and rain caught up with me, and I decided it was time to call it a day. I made my way back to the car empty-handed and very wet, ready for the long journey home, only to encounter a deluge on the way. The rain became so heavy at times that visibility was severely reduced, and it was difficult to even see the road ahead.

Still smarting from dipping wrynecks twice, I contacted Kev on Monday to see if he fancied a trip to Merthyr Tydfil to look for an Ortolan bunting. It would be a lifer for me, having dipped one at Wykeham Forest a couple of years ago, but not for Kev, who had already seen this bird a few days before my visit. Unfortunately, he was busy until Thursday, so rather than wait and risk missing them, I made plans to visit solo, setting off at breakfast time on Tuesday morning.

The journey was uneventful, and I pulled into the recommended parking area, finding a couple of other cars already there. I could see three birders down by the railway tracks, in the area where the Ortolan bunting had been reported over the previous few days. I walked through the gate, onto the trackside verge and along towards the first birder I came across.

He turned around and greeted me with, “Hi Kyle!” It was Steve Wilson @stevewilson1706 who Kev and I had chatted with online and met on a couple of occasions this year. Perhaps the accent had given me away and jogged his memory! Steve had been the first person on site at about 8.00am and had agreed with the other two birders that they would alert each other if any of them located the buntings. We settled in for the vigil, scanning and walking up and down the tracks on either side in the hope of picking up a glimpse. More birders trickled in and increased the pairs of eyes looking for the birds.

They were reported to favour the rough grass and scrub along the railway, often dropping out of sight into the grass and then appearing briefly before disappearing again. Given the open nature of the habitat, it wasn't surprising just how difficult they could be to locate, with even several birders searching the area.

The Ortolan bunting is a compact, sleek little bunting, roughly the size of a reed bunting but with a more streamlined appearance. The head and upper breast are a distinctive grey-green, contrasting with a yellowish throat, moustachial stripe and prominent yellowish eye-ring. The upperparts are warm brown and heavily streaked, while the lower breast, belly and flanks have a warm orange-buff tone. The small, conical bill is pinkish, as are the legs, and the dark eye stands out against the paler facial markings. The tail is dark with conspicuous white outer feathers, particularly noticeable when the bird takes flight.

At one point I got a little excited when I picked out what appeared to be a bunting perched on a bush, but a quick review of the photos I'd hurriedly taken revealed it to be nothing more than a female reed bunting. We found plenty of stonechats and meadow pipits, along with more reed buntings, but there was no sign of the Ortolan buntings among them.

Steve and I joked that, as the birds had first been reported at around 10.30am each day, perhaps that was when we'd finally locate them. As if on cue, at 10.30am the chap next to me turned and said he thought he'd just seen them in a tree along the far fenceline. Unfortunately, by the time he'd mentioned it, the birds had already flown down and disappeared. He had, however, managed to get a photograph, and although it wasn't the clearest of images, there was enough of a pale moustachial stripe for Steve and I to agree that they were indeed Ortolan buntings.

We quickly shared the news with the other birders, and suddenly everyone's attention was focused on the area where the birds had apparently dropped from the tree.

It was only about five minutes before a call went up that one of the Ortolan buntings had landed on top of what looked like a berberis bush, the colour of the bush adding to the views in the sunshine. I picked it up quickly in my binoculars and, just as I raised my camera, it flew, but fortunately dropped lower and to the left, remaining within the bush and still in view. I quickly fired off a series of photos, relieved that I'd managed to keep it in sight.

The bird then flew to the left and out of view, but as we followed, both it and the second bunting took to the air and continued further along to the bushes at the far end of the track, close to the gate and the road leading back up to the cars. One stopped briefly in the grass, and I watched as it crawled through the stems like a mouse, but was soon off to join the other bird. We followed and, as we scanned, Steve picked out one of the birds perched right on the edge of a berry bush. Unfortunately, it was partly obscured by foliage from a tree in front and further obscured by the fence and barbed wire running along the top.

I tried to get a photograph, but with so much in the way, the result was less successful.

We lost sight of the birds and waited to see if they might emerge from the bush, perhaps giving us another opportunity if they landed on the fences or wires. After about 15 minutes, though, we noticed that some of the remaining birders further down the track had picked up a bird and, judging by their concentration, it was probably one or both of the buntings. The birds must have slipped out from the back of the bush and moved on unseen.

We headed over and caught up with them, finding one of the buntings feeding along the base of the wire fence, below and to the left of a group of conifers. It started to come a little more into the open, and I was getting ready for a photograph when it suddenly flew up into the conifers and disappeared once again.

Steve and I continued chatting, and he mentioned that he was tempted to head for Dale, where a buff-breasted sandpiper had been reported earlier that morning - another two hours further into Wales. Eventually he succumbed to the temptation, said his goodbyes and set off, planning to grab a quick lunch on the way. He later posted that the sandpiper had been a no-show and that his unsuccessful detour had resulted in an impromptu hotel stop. As far as I could see, the bird wasn't reported again that day or the next.

Steve is absolutely smashing it this year and is already up to 297 species, so I'm sure there are plenty more to come.

I stayed for another half hour or so, but eventually I had to call it a day and make my way home, with an evening out planned and preparations to make.

Year list: 286.

Oldbury Power Station & WWT Slimbridge :: 25 October 2025

With Kev away on holiday, birding along the west and east coasts of Scotland before heading into Yorkshire, I had to decide on my own plan for the regular Saturday outing. I asked my wife, Charlotte, if she’d like to join me, and she agreed, giving up her regular Pickleball session since she’d already played nearly every day during her club’s holiday week. I started looking for somewhere not too far away, with decent facilities and the potential for a year tick or two. In the end, I settled on a trip to Oldbury-on-Severn and the power station in search of black redstarts, followed by a visit to WWT Slimbridge to try for the Temminck’s stint.

There’s often a black redstart at the power station around this time of year, but reports over the past few days have mentioned anywhere from four to seven birds, so the odds of finding a male seemed promising. I’d only been to the site once before,back in March 2023, when I went to see an Alpine swift (report here).

The power station is located on the south bank of the River Severn, near the village of Oldbury-on-Severn in South Gloucestershire. The station comprised two nuclear reactors of the Magnox type, each originally producing about 217MW capacity. The first of the reactors started generating back in 1967 - a good year - and when it shutdown in 2012 was the oldest operating nuclear power station in the world. Over its lifetime the station generated circa 137.5 TWh of electricity - enough to power one million homes for 20 years. The reactor buildings were enclosed in prestressed concrete pressure vessels, the first in the UK to employ this method. The site used water from the River Severn via intake/outfall structures connected by underground culverts to the turbine hall's condensing units for cooling.

The last of the station's fuel was removed in early 2016 meaning about 99% of the site's radioactive hazard had been removed. Site decommissioning is still underway with current work focussing on waste retrieval, processing, storing and dispatch. The site is scheduled to enter the "Care and Maintenance" phase in 2027 with final site clearance and demolition planned for wel into the 2090s or 2100s.

With sunrise at 6:51 a.m., there was no need for an early start - I wanted enough light for photography - so we planned to arrive around 9.00am. Pulling into the car park, we spotted another birder setting up his gear, also heading out in search of the birds. He’d been before, though he admitted he still hadn’t managed a great photo. The sky was overcast, which meant good shots might be tricky, but hope springs eternal. He set off ahead of us, though we soon caught up and followed him to the spot where the best photos had reportedly been taken. Even before reaching it, I spotted a female perched on top of a white corrugated building.

The black redstart is a rare breeder in the UK and is more regularly encountered as a passage migrant and winter visitor from continental Europe - France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Autumn passage typically spans from September to November, with a peak in October. Its preferred habitats include old buildings, industrial sites, quarries, churches and cathedrals, and cliff faces - basically places with bare or rocky ground.

The male is sooty-grey/dark overall, with a distinct bright orange.red tail, and often with a white-ish wing patch. Females and juveniles are a duller grey-brown overall but still with the orange-red tail - juvenile males often exhibiting the white wing patch.The wing patch on juvenile males is a great clue to their age and plumage stage, and changes quite a bit between late summer and their first spring. Freshly fledged there is no wing patch but juveniles undergo a partial moult before the autumn migration and crucially develops a pale or white wing patch. Females will lack ay wing patch and are more uniformly grey-brown.

There are thought to be typically 60-80 breeding pairs nationally with autumn migrants totalling several hundred to circa 1,000 individuals - total individuals recorded annually are therefore roughly 1,000-2,000 birds. They are highly localised with key areas are London and the Thames Estuary, Brisol and Severnside, Birmingham, and along the south coast.

I was able to locate various female type birds but always at distance and after a while of enjoying them through the scope we relocated down onto the coastal path, viewing one of the Severn Bridges in the distance. Although the light was still limited it was at least reasonably still. It took five minutes or so before we located a female but it was now closer and viewable through the fence. It then dropped down and into a dogwood shrub growing up a chain-link (wire-mesh) fence - this type of fence is common around industrial areas because it’s durable, affordable, and provides visibility while still creating a boundary.

We watched two females, a juvenile male and one male visit the fence around the dogwood and eventually observed them feeding on the dogwood berries - dogberries. Black redstarts are primarily insectivores, but their diet shifts seasonally to adapt to food availability. During the breeding season and warmer months, they focus on insects and other small invertebrates, which are rich in protein and essential for raising chicks.

In autumn and winter, insect numbers drop sharply, especially in northern or urban areas. To survive, black redstarts switch to fruits and berries, which provide sugars for energy and some essential nutrients. Dogwood berries, along with hawthorn, ivy, rowan, and other small fruits, are easy to find and digest, making them a convenient winter food source.

This seasonal flexibility is one reason black redstarts can survive in urban and semi-urban areas where insect availability may be unpredictable. They’ll often forage on berry-laden shrubs, supplementing their diet with whatever is available.

We enjoyed the views, and our earlier companion soon joined us, clearly noticing that we were getting better sightings than he had. Another birder appeared on the path as a kestrel flew around the cylindrical building structures, flushing pigeons from hidden perches. The kestrel made several passes, keeping the pigeons from settling, though they continued to circle the area. After a while, the kestrel seemed to give up its search and departed. It was evident that the peregrine, occasionally reported in the area, was not present today.

Charlotte had walked along the path and back and mentioned that she was beginning to feel cold, so we decided to pack up and head back to the car. On the way, we crossed paths with a birder coming the other direction, who confirmed spotting some female-type birds near our original vantage point. As we continued, we glimpsed a couple more ourselves, and a couple of stonechats.

We made our way to Slimbridge, which wasn’t far away, and on arrival we decided to postpone lunch until we had seen the Temminck’s stint that had already been reported that morning. We headed around to the Rushy Hide, only to find it full, with no spaces by the windows. Luckily, being tall, we were able to peer between others and try to catch sight of the bird. I was struck again by its size, particularly as it moved just behind a shelduck. Charlotte had a little trouble picking it out at first, with only directions and little sense of its scale, but she eventually spotted it, and we watched as it fed along a narrow muddy spit.

It is adapted for foraging in shallow mud and along the edges of freshwater wetlands. Its feeding behaviour is characterised by active probing and pecking. It mainly feeds on tiny invertebrates - insects, larvae, small crustaceans, and worms - which it picks from the surface of mud, sand, or shallow water.

Unlike some waders that use a rapid, continuous probing motion, Temminck’s stint often pause briefly between pecks, carefully inspecting the surface before striking. In winter or during migration stopovers, it will opportunistically consume tiny seeds or plant material, though invertebrates remain its main diet.

They breed across northern Europe and Siberia and winter in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and parts of southern Europe. In recent decades, there are about 100 records per year, with around 70 of those in spring passage - the species is extremely variable year‑to‑year, partly because Britain lies on the edge of its migration route, which makes numbers highly dependent on weather and migration patterns. There was a reportedly low count in 2021 of 54 individuals and a record influx of at least 226 in 2004.

Scanning the rest of the water we could see that numbers of birds have not built to the level we would expect for the winter months. We did however see a couple of common snipe out in the open and three spotted redshanks. After just a few minutes the stint flew onto the near bank but significantly distant and perhaps midway between the Rushy hide and Peng Observatory. From there it relocated again but this time to the back of the pool. After a further ten minutes Charlotte decided this was the time for us to visit the Visitor Centre for lunch.

We had been listening to one of the volunteers describe bittern flights between the Zeiss and Van de Bovencamp hides, which seemed to heighten Charlotte’s eagerness to return to the reserve. There was also a reported sighting of a yellow-browed warbler in the bushes near the Kingfisher hide. We decided to head straight for the Van de Bovencamp hide, joining about half a dozen others scanning the grass, reeds, and pool beyond. On the way, we stopped to chat with some friends who had dropped by after playing golf at Celtic Manor over the past couple of days.

One of the birders mentioned seeing bitterns within the last 45 minutes, so we were hopeful that regular sightings meant we wouldn’t have to wait long. About 20 minutes later, a bittern took flight in front of us, heading toward the Zeiss hide and dropping into the reeds to the front left. I managed to fire off a couple of shots, though the bird was already passing before I could get the camera on it. We watched for signs of movement in the reeds, and noticed people in the Zeiss hide pointing their lenses, suggesting they might have had partial views.

Around 15 minutes later, a second bittern burst out from roughly the same area, this time closer. It caught the strong wind now blowing through the hide windows and sped off quickly, veering right and disappearing over the track behind us. I didn’t have time to get the camera on it, though I was the one who had spotted it first. Later, a birder dropped by and showed us a photo of the second bird flying straight toward him before turning and crossing the track.

We spoke with a few birders who had gone looking for the yellow-browed warbler but returned empty-handed; perhaps the bird had taken shelter from the now brisk wind. Deciding to wrap up the day, we headed back towards the Visitor Centre for a cup of tea before making our way home.

On the way, we bumped into Nick and Anne Truby, who had stopped by on their return from a birding holiday in Cornwall. Unfortunately, the trip hadn’t been as rewarding as they’d hoped, and both had been under the weather with colds - Anne was still feeling unwell. We chatted briefly before continuing on our way.

Year list: 244.